Stan Pines: The Curse of the Sierra Nevada
by ClarkyDee
Summary: 1979. Con man Stan Pines is in debt to the mob and after trying and failing to escape his only hope of survival is a legendary cursed mine that may or may not exist. Will Stan be able to find the legendary treasure and save his neck from the hit men sent to off him or will the curse claim all their lives? Horror, Supernatural. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**July 10th 1979**

 **Sierra Nevada Mountains, California**

The car bounced violently on the old dirt road that led up into the mountains. It was night and it was cold, especially in the car's trunk.

 _How am I gonna get out of this one?_ Stanley Pines wondered gloomily. He tested his handcuffs once again. _Zilch._ They were fastened tightly, the metal digging painfully into his wrists. _Figures these mafiosos wouldn't have given me any wiggle room._ Stan's heart sank with an uncharacteristic pessimism. The car went over a particularly nasty pothole that interrupted Stan's train of thought. His head struck the trunk's ceiling and he saw stars in the pitch blackness.

"You had better be telling the truth about this," a muffled voice called back from the driver's seat. Stan could tell it was Mr. Flowers.

"Yeah," another, higher voice added, "if this is bogus you're gonna wish we buried you back on the side of the highway." That had to be Mr. Hatchet. Stan frowned at the darkness around him. _Hey, it could be true,_ he tried and failed to convince himself. _I mean just because I learned about the treasure from some drunk pilot in a dive bar down in New Mexico doesn't mean it doesn't exist...well not for sure anyways._

"It's there ya big ape," Stan called back defiantly, "a fortune in gold!" His split lip reopened and he tasted coppery blood. _Note to self,_ Stan mimed a yawn to take some of the soreness from his bruised jaw, _keep your big mouth shut._ After all, that was what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place.

 **Two Hours Earlier**

"Where's Big Steve's money?" asked Flowers, the larger of the two mobsters. He cracked his knuckles for effect, his face showing no emotion. Stan was kneeling, the smaller of the duo behind him with a gun trained on his head.

"Boys, boys," Stan said, "if that's all you wanted to ask we could have saved the drive out here! I've got the money, it's back in my hotel room."

"We searched the place up and down," the larger hit man pulled out an envelope, dumping the contents on the dusty ground of the desert. "All we found was this plan ticket and a few hundred in spending cash."

"Ah, right," Stan recovered quickly. It was surprisingly easy for him to come up with excuses with a pistol barrel pressed against his sweat-matted hair. "See, here's the thing about that…" A powerful backhand caught Stan in the side of the head and the force of the blow knocked him to the ground.

"Big Steve doesn't want your excuses," the big mobster said, lifting Stan back to his knees.

"Hey ya big idiot!" Stan shot back spitefully, "if you kill me then Steve's never gonna get a cent!" The heavy man before him paused for a moment, his neutral face turning into a scowl.

"Please," the barrel of the gun came back to rest against Stan's skull, "continue."

"Right, right," Stan took a deep breath, his mind racing, "I don't have the money…" the big goon raised his fist again, "...but I can get it! Two hours from here there's this place I know about. There's treasure there, more than enough for Big Steve."

"What are you talking about?" the fist fell back to the Flowers' side.

"There's an old mine, up the mountains. Rumor says it's been abandoned for so long that nobody even knows it exists."

"Then how do you know, huh?" Hatchet asked from behind Stan.

"Because of this pilot friend of mine. He, uh, runs a lot of _cargo_ up and down this stretch of the border. He says that he saw the mine himself from his plane."

"Then why isn't this millionaire here right now?" the big mobster asked skeptically.

 _Because even that drunk would have known the mine was bogus._ "Because I...I turned him in to the feds. I wanted the money to myself." The two hitmen seemed to ponder this for a moment before the big one nodded ever so slightly. _I guess sometimes having a reputation for dishonesty can be pretty helpful,_ Stan smiled with relief before catching himself. Luckily, nobody noticed.

"What kind of mine is it?" the voice from behind asked.

"Gold," Stan said with his thickest, theatrical reveal, "Spanish gold from way back. They abandoned the mine because the Native Americans thought it was cursed. They buried the entrance so nobody would ever find it and now it's just a legend. But my friends," he was really laying it on now, "I've discovered it again. The treasure of the Sierra Nevada..." He let the words hang heavy in the air between them. _You know what they say…_ He watched with satisfaction as the big goon's mind raced with the possibilities. _...there's a sucker born every minute._

"How much gold?" Flowers asked, a guarded but hungry look in his eyes.

"More than enough to pay my debt to Big Steve," Stan said, barely a whisper, "enough for you two to be set for life." He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. _Now's the time, don't lose them. Don't give them time to think it over._ "Of course, I'll want a finder's fee. Let's say ten percent?"

The big goon's face was a stony mask again and his fist took Stan square in the mouth. Stan fell backwards into the dirt, his lip split and bleeding. He was smiling.

"Okay," he said as they hoisted him back to his feet, "how about five percent? That's only fair, right?"

The car rolled to a stop. Stan had given them the directions before they tossed him in the trunk. They had been following narrow, unkempt roads up into the mountains for the past few hours and Stan was feeling nauseous. The doors opened and slammed shut with a thud as the hit men made their way around the car. _Okay,_ Stan's mind was racing, _this is it. Show time._ He tried his handcuffs for the hundredth time. _No dice._ A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead despite the chill of the freezing night air.

The trunk opened.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

I hope you enjoyed reading this first chapter. Grunkle Stan is such a cool character so I decided to write a story about him in his youth. I imagine he would be a lot like he is in the show, only rougher around the edges and more impulsive. Let me know if you think I did a good job getting Stan's character across.

Since this is Gravity Falls, there will be supernatural elements later. After all, a story about an cursed mine with no curse isn't much of a story at all, right?

I would love to hear what you thought, what you liked and disliked about the story so far. I always respond to every review and I try my best to incorporate ideas into my story if I can! :)

Since the chapters will probably be about this length, I should be able to update twice a week until the story's finished.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

"About time we got here!" Stan announced loudly as the trunk popped open. Mister Flowers and Mister Hatchet looked at him quizzically for a moment, taken by surprise by his annoyed tone. "What are you waiting for? Get me out of here!" A pair of large hands grabbed him and roughly yanked him out of the trunk before dropping him onto the dirt road. _Okay, maybe that was a little much,_ Stan chided himself as he tried and failed to stand up on his own.

"What's the matter, Pines?" Hatchet asked, giving Stan a motivational kick in the side, "we've got a long walk ahead of us."

"And here I was hoping I could catch up on my beauty sleep," Stan coughed, stretching his legs out on the floor to clear up the last of the cramps. _I haven't been stuck in a trunk that long since Jersey,_ Stan remembered sourly. He pushed himself to his feet slowly to stand before the duo. He looked around theatrically, as if inspecting the terrain around him. "Yep, this is the place," he told them with false certainty. _At least it sounds like the place Harris described. But heck, these mountains all look the same to me._

"So it shouldn't take you long to find the mine entrance," Hatchet said with a leering smile.

"Uncuff my hands, I need to read the map," Stan ignored his taunt. The goons looked at each other for a moment, deciding if uncuffing their prisoner was really the best idea. "If you want to find this place some time tonight I'm gonna need my map."

"You'd better not try anything funny," Flowers warned as he turned Stan around and removed his cuffs. Stan breathed a deep sigh of relief as the cuffs came off before rubbing his raw wrists. _Step one,_ Stan told himself. _Now if only I could come up with the rest of the plan..._

"My bag," Stan held out his hand until Hatchet handed it to him. He searched through it for a moment before withdrawing a map and flashlight. He made a show of examining the map and surveying his surroundings before nodding to himself. They were at the end of a deserted road high up in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. In the darkness Stan could make out massive peaks and gullies beyond the thin shroud of trees. If Harris the pilot had been telling the truth about seeing the mine and the town that Stan had set out from had been the right one and there was even a way to get to the mine itself, then maybe things would be alright.

In truth, he was as lost as they were but he couldn't let them sense it. If they knew just how little faith Stan had in this mine even being there at all they would have buried him hours ago.

"What's taking so long?" Flowers demanded, taking a step towards Stan.

"Hey listen!" Stan stepped forward to meet him, "I can barely see what I'm doing and unless you want to spend the rest of your life wandering these mountains then you'd better give me time to get my bearings." For a moment Stan was sure he was going to get hit for his trouble but Mister Flowers backed off. He stayed where he was but his demeanor softened and Stan knew that he had won the contest between them. He returned to his map. He had found their location on the topographical map of the region and he was in the process of figuring out a route from them to the red X marking the mine's location further west.

It wouldn't be easy. According to the townsfolk in the area nobody had been up in these mountains for decades and there was no road or path leading from the dead end dirt road to the cliffside where the mine's entrance should be.

"I hope you boys are ready for a hike," Stan announced, finally deciding on a route. Mister Flowers nodded slightly and Mister Hatchet grimaced. Then they were off.

It was dark and the only light came from a trio of flashlights. They had been walking through light woods for about an hour and the cloudy sky did little to help them find their way. Stan always found wilderness eerily quiet. He was a city boy from New Jersey and he thought he always would be.

"You'd better not be leading us in a wild goose chase," Flowers warned, his voice close behind Stan.

"We should come out of the woods in a second…" Stan's voice trailed away as they emerged from the trees to face an enormous valley that seemed to stretch on forever before them. In the farthest distance mountain peaks silhouetted against the sky marked the borders of the valley. The light of his flashlight was swallowed up by the all consuming blackness and it seemed to him as though the empty expanse before them descended into infinity.

"Whoa," Hatchet breathed.

"Yeah," Stan said, cautiously stepping forward to the stoney ledge of the cliff, staring out over the drop off into the valley beyond. "Watch your step." He turned back to face his escorts.

"Which way?" Flowers asked, his voice betraying just a hint of the awe that he must have been feeling at the vista before them.

"Follow me," Stan said decisively, turning left and continuing down the narrow windswept path. The hit men followed close behind.

It wasn't long before they came upon the first difficulty. They had only been following the path for a few minutes when they came upon a section of the cliff that had collapsed. The distance between themselves and the far side was at least ten feet. Stan grimaced, looking out over the ledge to see the deadly fall that awaited anyone who jumped short.

"So…" Stan said, rolling up the sleeves of his signature suit, "who's first?"

"You first," Flowers told Stan, "we don't know if the ledge can take the weight of the jump."

"Then why doesn't Hatchet go?" Stan argued, "he's lighter than me by at least twenty pounds."

"It's a safety issue," Hatchet said, prodding Stan in the back hard with his pistol, "namely, my safety."

"Fine," Stan said with a sigh. _Figures I have to risk my neck. This was my idea after all..._ Stan swallowed as a strong gust of wind rippled his suit jacket, _somehow that idea isn't very comforting._ Stan backed up to get a running start and he briefly considered running for it but the narrow cliffside path was straight and long and even in the dark he didn't like his chances against Mister Hatchet's gun. _Here goes nothing,_ Stan though, taking a few quick breaths to steady himself.

"Yeaaaagh!" he bellowed an awkward scream as he charged towards the ledge. Suddenly he was in the air and the world seemed to slow down as he flew through the empty space. His mind was flush with adrenaline and any thoughts he might have had about estimating his trajectory were pushed out of his mind to be replaced with one overwhelming feeling of primal terror. His feet his the far ledge and for a moment his heart stopped as he swayed backwards but thankfully he managed to pitch forward and land face first on the rock. _I'm alive!_ Stan was laughing now, _I'm alive! Ha!_ Stan stood up uneasily and his head swam.

Suddenly, he realised, he was afraid of heights.

"I'm coming across," Hatchet called to Stan who nodded before moving away to give Hatchet room to land. The scrawny hitman backed up a dozen steps and took a running start but Stan could tell as he leapt into the air that he wasn't going to make it.

"Hatchet!" Stan shouted running towards the ledge despite the anxiety building in his chest from the height. Hatchet must have realised he would fall short and his face became a mask of panic. He reached out and Stan dove for the ground. Their hands caught as Hatchet fell and he swung into the ledge with a bonerattling thud. Stan dug in and pulled as hard as he could and slowly Hatchet was lifted up so that he could pulled himself up. Stan shot to his feet and Hatchet got up after him and grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Ha!" Hatchet called, his voice cracking higher than usual, "you saved my life."

"Yeah, well…" Stan shifted uneasily under the intense gaze, "Don't get any funny ideas." _Why did I do that?_ Stan wondered angrily, _I could have halved my problems right there. Gah. I'm too soft hearted for this kind of thing…_

"If you two are finished with your love-in," Flowers called from across the drop, "I'm coming over."

"Right," Hatchet released Stan's shoulders quickly and looked away with embarrassment. Stan coughed awkwardly, rubbing his arm.

 _This night just gets better and better._

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's notes:**

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I figured I should throw in some action and explain Stan's fear of heights.

If it's not too much trouble, I'd love to hear from you. Leave a review and tell me what you like and don't like so far! I'm always looking to improve my writing and this chapter is my first adventure/supernatural fic so I'm curious as to how well the mystery and action are coming across.

Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

"How much farther?" Mister Flowers asked impatiently as the trio stopped for a rest on a flat plateau.

"You got anything to eat?" Stan asked, ignoring the question, "I could eat." The only response was silence. "Fine, fine," Stan grumbled as he took out his map. Stan sighed tiredly as he took a seat on a large flat rock and unfolded the map. They were making good time and the moon was still high in the sky overhead. They had gone about half the distance but the terrain ahead would be more difficult and it would probably take a lot more time to cover than the light forest and cliffside path had.

"Well?" Mister Hatchet asked, coming to stand in front of Stan.

"We've covered a lot of ground," Stan gestured over his shoulder, "but the terrain ahead gets worse. It'll take some time and that's if we don't get lost." Hatchet grunted in annoyance. Stan took his backpack off and opened it before rooting around inside. No doubt the mobsters had searched the bag before giving it back to him since they made no move to stop him.

"Aha!" Stan exclaimed triumphantly as he withdrew a small colourful can of peaches and a can opener.

"You can't be serious?" Hatchet demanded.

"What?" Stan responded absentmindedly, not looking up from his attempt to open in can in the near darkness. "I said I was hungry." Hatchet made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh before training his light on Stan's hands. The can was open in a moment before Stan dug in, eating the peaches and drinking the syrup greedily.

"I've seen pigs eat less messily," Flowers said with disgust.

"Hey!" Stan said with his mouth full, waving his fork around, "I didn't really have time for a full course meal before I got kidnapped, alright?"

"Just hurry up," Flowers conceded, taking a moment to survey the area around them. "We're going up that way, right?" Flowers pointed toward a gently sloping hill made up of broken rocks and covered in sparse vegetation. Stan nodded, still chewing. Flowers shined his flashlight into the darkness idly while he waited and he could have sworn that he saw something move. Not being a superstitious man, Flowers dismissed the movement as a tree branch moving in the biting wind. It wasn't.

Out beyond the plateau something waited. It had been a long time since it had last seen humans. It didn't know exactly how long since it had no way to measure the days or the years but for the changing of the seasons but it did know that it had been far too long and it was so hungry. Now all it had to do was wait until they fell asleep.

"Okay," Stan said, stashing the empty can and utensils back into his bag before standing up, "I'm good to go." Flowers nodded, gesturing for Stan to take the lead once again. "Oh," Stan paused, rubbing his neck nervously," uh, thanks. For the light." He coughed awkwardly and pushed past Hatchet before resuming their trek. The thing in the dark followed them as they continued into the hills.

"So…" Hatchet broke the silence that had descended over the trio in the last half hour, "what's the curse?"

"Huh?" Stan asked before remembering what he had told them earlier. "Oh. Right! The curse…" he stalled. "Actually I don't really know the details. Only that the miners went nuts and killed each other or something." Stan let out a barking laugh to break the tension that he was suddenly feeling.

"Oh."

"But you don't believe that stuff do you? Come on," Stan waved his hands around spookily, " _the curse of the Sierra Nevada_...what kind of stupid name is that?" Hatchet said nothing but coughed uncomfortably as a sudden gust of wind left them all shivering.

"No," Flowers interrupted, " _we_ don't believe in that garbage. There's no such thing as curses."

"Exactly," Stan agreed.

"Then why did they leave?" Hatchet's question hung heavy in the air between the trio. No one offered an answer. "Well," Hatchet's voice raised higher than usual, "if there was no curse, then why did they abandon a _gold_ mine? Huh?"

"Maybe there was a gas leak," Stan offered, "it poisoned the miners and everyone just assumed it was a curse?" The explanation was unconvincing even to Stan.

"It doesn't matter," Flowers said firmly, "as long as there's gold there then who cares what happened to anybody before."

"Yeah," Stan suddenly felt uneasy, "don't think too much about it." _It's just the creepy night air, that's all,_ Stan told himself. _You don't believe in that supernatural stuff. Plus, I don't even know if the mine's there for sure._

The sound of something hard scraping against stone from somewhere in the darkness behind them cause them all to turn around. The sound stopped. No one said anything but Hatchet and Flowers exchanged meaningful glances while they swept their flashlights across the uneven ground in a purposeful pattern. Stan swallowed, taking a silent step closer to the duo who had been standing a few feet behind him before they had turned around. _I really wish I carried a weapon..._ Stan groused, _wait, does Mister Flowers have anything? It's not like the big lug needs one, he's big and he looks like he knows how to throw around his weight._ Stan had trained as a boxer as a teenager and he could tell from the way Flowers carried himself he knew his way around a fight. _Well,_ Stan felt his busted lip, _that and the fact that he has a pretty mean straight._

Stan strained to hear anything in the darkness and his mind began playing tricks on him. He could swear the same noise was now on the complete opposite side of them. _How can that be? I must have imagined it -_ His thoughts were interrupted when Flowers and Hatchet spun around to face behind them again.

"Who's out there?" Flowers called authoritatively. No one answered. Now Stan was out in front of the others and he felt exposed. He took a step back when Flowers' rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't," the big man told him before looking back out to face the darkness.

"How long have you been following us?" Hatchet shouted, "are you here for Stan Pines?" There was no response beside a quickening of the wind.

"This ain't a rescue," Stan whispered back to the hit men. "Part of being a con man is making sure nobody can track you down, you know?"

"If they aren't here for you," Flowers began.

"What are they doing here?" Hatchet finished.

The trio waited in the darkness of the hills for a while longer but whoever was following them wasn't going to come out and they weren't going to find them.

"We keep moving," Flowers told them finally, "once we reach the mine, it'll be impossible for them to follow us without being spotted."

"Or we could...stop here until it's light out?" Stan offered weakly. He received a glare from Flowers and Hatchet in turn.

"You don't have that kind of time, Pines," Hatchet offered one of his slimiest smiles.

"Right," Stan frowned, "then what are we waiting for?" And with that they were on the move again. The thing waited until they had passed by before following them once again.

 **Author's Notes:**

Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. I tried to be creepier than usual for my fics so I'd be very interested to know how it came across. Was it scary? Are you curious about the monster? I did some research into my monster and it really creeped me out so hopefully I'll be able to get that across throughout the rest of the story. :)

Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

Stan yawned and shook his head to stay focused. He hadn't slept the day before, instead spending his time making preparations to flee the country. He had gotten a plane ticket, cashed out all his assets, and packed his bags but he had waited too long and now he was here. _Just my luck,_ Stan grumbled to himself, _I should have just spent the time sleeping for all the good it did me._

Stan spared a moment to look back at Flowers and Hatchet. _They don't look much better than me,_ Stan thought with amusement. _Of course, they've never had to drive for forty hours straight across state lines to avoid going to jail...well maybe they have, considering their line of work._ Stan frowned, with all the weird things that had happened so far he had nearly forgotten that they had originally been sent to kill him if he couldn't produce the money he owed.

They crested a hill and beyond him in the dim light of the pre-dawn Stan saw it. His heart caught in his chest at the sight of the half buried wooden structure that marked the entrance into the fabled mineshaft. _Ha!_ Stan's mind was a blur with feelings of relief and excitation, _it's real! I can't believe it! Now who's the idiot? That idiot pilot, that's who!_ He turned back to Flowers and Hatchet who had yet to crest the hill.

"Ha! I told you it was here!" Stan shouted, pointing a triumphant finger at the duo. Flowers' face remained a mask but Hatchet had a look of concern on his face.

"You had better not be lying," Flowers said, pushing past Stan to look for himself. Hatchet remained quiet.

"Well I'll be…" Flowers said, the tiniest hint of emotion entering his voice. "I gotta say, I didn't think it was real." Stan smiled triumphantly as Flowers turned to him but Flowers took him by the collar and pulled him close threateningly. "But just because the mine's here that don't mean there's gold in there."

"Right…" Stan managed to choke out, "they just dug a mine shaft out in the middle of nowhere because there was nothing valuable here…" Stan grunted as a big fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

"Don't get smart," Flowers warned, "you're still on the hook for Big Steve's money."

"Thanks," Stan smirked.

"What?" Flowers hoisted Stan up onto his tiptoes.

"Nobody's ever called me smart before," Stan offered Flowers his broadest salesman smile. Flowers raised his fist again and Stan flinched despite himself.

"That's enough," Hatchet told his partner and the hit never came. "If there's no gold, you can rough him up all you want. Until then, he's useful and I don't want you scrambling his brains."

"Yeah," Flowers said, dropping Stan roughly on the ground, "got it." Stan looked up from the ground to meet Hatchet's eyes for a just a moment before both of them looked away. It was long enough to catch Hatchet's expression. _You saved me, now we're even._ Stan coughed harshly as he stood up. He would have another bruise on his stomach but on top of everything else that already hurt it really wasn't that bad.

"Well," Stan said miserably, "let's get on with it." He began down the slope that led down to the mine shaft while Hatchet and Flowers followed behind. They had reached the bottom of the hill when they heard the heavy thudding sound behind them. As one, they turned to face whatever it was that had been following them but there was no one in sight.

"I'm getting pretty sick of this," Stan called fiercely over the crest of the hill. "What do you want? Huh? Who's there?"

There was a long, eerie silence where no one moved or said anything. Hatchet reached into his jacket to draw his pistol, holding it upward at the ready while Flowers reached into his jacket to withdraw a pair of thick knuckledusters which slipped comfortably over his hands. They looked back and forth between each other and then at Stan. Flowers pointed at him with a thick finger and then pointed up the hill. Stan shook his head, holding out his open hands expectantly. _I'm not going up there unarmed!_ Flowers and Hatchet exchanged another look before Flowers took the lead. Hatchet and Stan followed the big man as he slowly made his way up the hill. There was another thud and they heard the scraping of something hard against the bark of the thicket beyond. The trio stopped. They were all thinking the same thing. _Trap._

Stan was breathing hard and his leg was shaking slightly. It wasn't like he was afraid of a fight, in fact he'd been fighting his entire life. This was something else, some primal terror of the unknown that was beyond reason or experience to overcome. Hatchet reached up and tapped Flowers on the shoulder so that he turned around. They exchanged looks before Flowers gestured for Stan to go back down. The trio crept backwards, slowly but surely, until they reached the bottom of the hill once again.

"Let's get inside," Flowers whispered.

"I'll cover you," Hatchet said training his weapon on the crest of the hill as Stan and Flowers moved some debris aside to clear a path inside. A cold wind whipped down the now opened mineshaft and the pitch darkness seemed much more foreboding.

Beyond the hill in the pre-dawn darkness the creature waited. It was angry that it had almost ruined its own plan because it had been so impatient. So hungry. If it had come to it, it knew it could have overpowered the three but if it could just wait then things would be so much easier. They would be lost in the darkness of the mine and that was where it would strike. Its whole body shook from the anticipation and its stomach growled more loudly than usual. Soon. Soon.

 **Author's Notes:**

Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed that chapter! It was a joy to write since the scene just kind of flowed naturally for me :) next chapter they'll be in the mine and things will start to get a bit more... T rated.

If it's not too much trouble, review and let me know how I'm doing! I really appreciate it and I always respond to each review in the A/N of my next chapter :D

 **To indistinctcur:**

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like the characters :) they've changed a lot from how I imagined them before I started writing so I'm glad that the choices I made were for the better.


	5. Chapter 5

The air inside the mine shaft was cold and humid and it gave Stan the distinct feeling that he was walking straight into the mouth of some giant creature. He ran his flashlight along the ancient stone walls to examine the scars of steel and iron hand tools that had once been used to clear the stone and he tried to imagine what it must have been like to have moved such massive amounts of earth.

Meanwhile, Mister Flowers was shining his light down the shaft to determine how far it went but his efforts were wasted since the tunnel took a drastic left turn only a few dozen feet ahead and anything beyond the bend couldn't be seen from the mine's entrance. Mister Hatchet followed the other two, walking backwards with his gun trained on the hill where they had heard the sound of their pursuer.

"Where's the gold, Pines?" Flowers asked, his voice just barely edged with nervousness. Stan knew the question was the result of nervousness since any gold would have been extracted as the tunnel was dug and any gold that remained would be at the farthest, deepest end of the mine.

"Deeper down," Stan said idly, his skin prickling uneasily. "Are you two sure we should be going farther with whoever it is that's behind us?"

"We've got no choice," Hatchet answered, "they know the terrain better than us and they're obviously toying with us. If they follow us in then we'll be on even ground…"

"And if not? If they're just waiting to trap us down here?" Stan's voice rose.

"Then we're in the same place we are now," Hatchet said with irritation. _Right,_ Stan corrected himself, _I knew that. I'm making mistakes because I'm tired. Tired and scared._ Stan slapped himself hard across the face, hoping to wake himself up.

"We're going farther in," Flowers announced and the trio began their dark descent.

They had been travelling through the winding, maze-like tunnels for what seemed like forever when they came upon a large natural cave. There was no natural light here but the light of their flashlights reflected off of deposits of quartz that lined the ceiling and walls, illuminating the whole cave.

"Wow," Hatchet breathed as they entered the wide open space.

"You said it," Stan was awestruck. The cave must have been a two dozen feet high and fifty wide and the walls were streaked with the shiny mineral.

"Gold," Flowers said looking closely at one of the quartz deposits to see that there were in fact streaks of gold solidified in the crystal structure of the quartz. Stan took a few steps forward and his chest felt light, _it's real! Ha! The mine, the gold, the…_ A foot kicked against some brittle debris which made a sickly sound as it scattered ahead of him. Stan swallowed and looked down to see a partial skeleton scattered on the stony floor of the cave right below his feet. "Agh!" Stan fell backwards onto his butt and his hands raised up instinctively in front of his face before he felt two huge hands lift him up as they pulled him back.

"Stan!" Flowers' hands held Stan firm, "be quiet." The calm, deep voice of the mobster caused Stan to stop shouting. He swallowed with embarrassment as Flowers let go of his shoulders. "Sorry." Once Stan had collected himself he noticed that the ground around the cavern was littered with the remains of several people, probably the miners who had died so long ago.

"You did it," Flowers said, a touch of warmth in his voice for the first time since their ordeal had begun, "I can't believe it. Gold. _Gold."_ Flowers breathed the last word as he ran his flashlight across the walls, watching mesmerized as the light caused the flecks of gold to glitter brightly.

"How do we get it out?" Hatchet asked, running a slender hand across the rough quartz.

"We'll need mining equipment, or something," Stan guessed, "you guys have that kind of stuff right? I mean Big Steve's connected." Hatchet and Flowers shared a glance and some silent exchange passed between them before they both nodded.

"To hell with Big Steve," Flowers said firmly.

"Yeah," Hatchet agreed, "We ain't sharing any of this with Big Steve. As far as he knows this place doesn't even exist."

"What about my debt?" Stan edged away from the duo cautiously. _Here it comes,_ Stan thought as sweat began to pour down his back, _here comes the doubt-cross. They're gonna plug me and take the gold for themselves._

"About that…" Flowers began, turning to face Stan.

"Wait. I won't tell nobody, I swear," Stan stammered out, raising his hands to shield himself, "You can even keep the gold. I can hike it to Mexico and you'll never see me again." He was babbling now as both hitmen advanced on him. Suddenly, Hatchet and Flowers stopped.

"We never saw you in the first place," Flowers told the cowering Stan.

"Shame really," Hatchet agreed, "by the time we got to your motel room you had already taken off. We tried to head you off at the border but you had such a big lead…" Hatchet shrugged theatrically.

"What?" Stan's voice cracked and a tension in his shoulders he hadn't realised was there relaxed. "Really?"

"Yeah," Flowers told him, "now get out of here."

"But what about…" Stan began when a noise behind him interrupted. It was the loud sound of something hard scraping against rock coming from the mine shaft behind them. It was the sound that had been plaguing them since they had crossed the low hills earlier that night. Whoever was following them had followed them into the mine itself. _Good!_ Stan though unconvincingly, _we can face whoever it is now and be done with it._ He stepped backwards quickly so that he was behind Flowers and Hatchet.

"What do you want?" Flowers called as the sound got closer. "You obviously know the area so you weren't following us to this place!"

"Why don't you come out and make this easier on yourself," Hatchet sneered, raising his pistol.

"Yeah," Stan's throat was dry and he swallowed a few times to no avail. "What they said." The scrapping intensified as it got closer. Each step down the tunnel became louder and louder until it seemed as though the scraping was coming from inside the cave itself. Then suddenly it stopped.

"What do you want? Huh?" Flowers shouted into the darkness of the tunnel. A hollow voice answered him.

"You." Then the tunnel collapsed. They were trapped.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

 __Spooky! As you can tell, things are going to start getting scarier (hopefully) from here on out. You have been warned. I think I'm alright at writing horror but since this is my first ever published horror fic I'm anxious to see what you all think of it!

As always, please review if you have the time. I really enjoy reading them and the criticism and feedback help me to improve as a writer :)


	6. Chapter 6

"What the _hell_ was that?" Stan took a step back in the darkness of the cave, bumping into a dazed Mister Flowers. The stone was still shaking and the sound of the tunnel's collapse was still ringing in Stan's ears. "Did you hear that?" Flowers' grabbed onto Stan's shoulders to steady him but when the big man spoke his voice was heavy with uncertainty.

"Did anyone see it?" Flowers asked no one in particular. The voice had sounded so rotten, so decayed. _Whatever that was, it wasn't human,_ Stan thought with alarm, his usual skepticism unravelling in the face of what had just happened.

"That doesn't matter," Hatchet spoke up for the first time since the collapse. The others turned to face him, the light from their flashlights casting off the quartz deposits around the cave and illuminating the darkness somewhat. "What matters is that we find a way out of here."

"We should go back the way we came," Flowers sounded uncertain. "We can shift the rocks and open the tunnel…"

"And that _thing_ will be waiting for us when we do," Stan interrupted harshly. No one remarked on him calling it a thing rather than a person. It seemed that they had all come to the same conclusion.

"And we don't even know if opening the tunnel wouldn't just cause a bigger cave in," Hatchet warned. "No, we need to find another way out of here." He swept his light across the cave walls but it seemed like they were trapped.

"It looks like we're stuck," Stan said, his voice tinged with fear. "But hey," he barked a nervous laugh, "at least that thing's out there, not in here with us." Hatchet frowned before sitting down on the floor.

"It doesn't make sense," he said. Stan came and sat down across from Hatchet, dropping his bag heavily behind him. He was so tired he could barely stay upright and he yawned loudly despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. " _You,_ " Hatchet said the word slowly as if he was puzzling it over.

"Huh?" Stan blinked several times, sure that he had heard wrong.

"That's what it said," Hatchet's voice dropped ominously, "it said it wanted us."

"Yeah," Flowers paced beside the two, "so now it has us?"

"That's the thing though," Hatchet explained, he gestured around them, "it doesn't have us. Like Stan said, we're in here and it's out there. So why trap us? What does it want _with_ us?" He spoke with such foreboding Stan actually shivered despite himself.

"Who cares?" Flowers growled with false bravado, "it ain't getting a thing." They were all silent for a minute as each thought over his options.

"We've got to find some way out of here, maybe there's another tunnel leading out of the cave?" Hatchet wondered aloud. Stan's head pitched forward slightly, his eyes drooping. "Hey." A flash of pain sent Stan reeling as a slender, calloused hand struck him on the side of the head.

"Gah," Stan shook himself, blinking away the bright stars dazzling his vision, "what? What? I'm awake."

"Help us look for a way out of here," Hatchet said, getting to his feet. His face was a mask of apprehension for a moment. _What's that about?_ Stan wondered. Hatchet coughed awkwardly before offering Stan a hand to get up.

"Uh," Stan reached up and took the offered hand. It was surprisingly strong for being so small and Hatchet was able to yank Stan to his feet with no difficulty, "thanks."

"Yeah," Hatchet's eyes shifted back and forth before turning to examine the nearest segment of wall more carefully. "Spread out, see if there's anything we missed. A side passage or a break in the rock. Anything."

Stan crossed the cave, skirting uncomfortably close to the human remains that littered the floor. The skeleton he had unceremoniously kicked aside lay where he had first come into the cave while a few other piles of bones sat in random places. Taking a deep breath, Stan walked over and examined a set of bones. If these had been the miners then it would be important to know exactly how it was that they had died. Not that Stan would be able to tell much, he wasn't a doctor.

Stan picked a pile of bones at random, avoiding the one he had kicked over. He crouched down beside it, careful not to touch anything, before scanning the bones with his flashlight. He frowned. He might not have been a doctor but he knew what he saw. The bones had been chewed on and teeth marks scored the yellowed surface in odd patterns. It reminded Stan of corn on the cob just eaten and the mental image nearly made him vomit. He stood and took a few deep breathes before calling out to the others.

"I think these miners were eaten," Stan said without ceremony and both Flowers and Hatchet turned towards him right away.

"What?"

"Eaten?"

"Yeah," Stan said self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, "these bones are covered in teeth marks."

"Do you think it was that thing?" Flowers asked, his voice actually wavering momentarily before he collected himself.

"Who else could it have been?" Hatchet almost spat the words, "it's not like they ate each other."

"Let's just find a way out of here," Stan swallowed loudly.

They searched for a while before Flowers found something. He called them over and sure enough there was a smaller secondary tunnel dugout of the cave that had been obscured by the natural contours of the walls. From where they had been standing, it had been invisible.

"Should we see where it goes?" Stan asked nervously. _Oh great,_ he thought with a morose chuckle, _I think I might be becoming afraid of small spaces._

"We don't have any other choice, do we?" Flowers asked. The side tunnel led out of the cave at a right angle to the entrance tunnel so there was a chance that it came back around and met up somewhere further down the line.

"Let's go," Hatchet led the way down the side tunnel as Stan and Mister Flowers followed. They left the cave with its grisly horrors and riches behind.

 **Author's Notes:**

I promise it's not zombies! I just thought I would say so right now. It's a mythological creature that I jazzed up a bit from the original lore but there are no undead involved. Anyways, with that aside, I hope you enjoyed the chapter :D It was pretty fun to write even though not much happened since I got to examine the mystery and give you all some clues about what's really going on. Feel free to guess what the monster is! ;)

As always, please review and let me know what you liked and didn't like about the chapter! I'm always looking to improve my writing and reviews really help me see where I can improve and how well what I want to say actually gets across.

See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

"Stan," it was Ma Pines' voice that drifted across the small kitchen, "you'd best finish your breakfast quick or you'll be late for school." Stan couldn't believe his eyes. He was sitting at the old linoleum surfaced kitchen table of his youth and across from him…

"Ford!" Stan shouted, relief mixed with regret in his voice. _Wait,_ Stan was overcome by a feeling in his gut, it told him something was wrong.

"Stan!" Ford replied, laughing lightly at his own joke. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Fold exclaimed, "something the matter?"

"No," Stan forced himself to relax, "no, nothing." _What was I even worried about anyways?_ Stan looked down at his hands and then at his scrawny arms. He made a fist but the gesture felt alien to him and suddenly he realised he couldn't recall any of his years of boxing training. He looked back up past his pitiful breakfast of oatmeal to stare once again at his twin brother.

"Hey Ford," Stan began but he found he couldn't remember what he had wanted to ask so instead he just shut his mouth again. He looked at the scrawny kid before him with sadness. Times had often been tough for the Pines of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. After the war, Mister Pines, who had fought at Okinawa, had come back to a factory that no longer had a place for him. His job had been taken by a war widow that would take half the pay and so money had been tight and Stan recognized this scene well.

"What is it?" Ford asked, eyeing Stan's meagre breakfast despite himself. There was barely enough food for one kid, not to mention two.

"Uh," Stan coughed uncomfortably, startling himself with his own quiet voice, "I'm...uh...not hungry. You want my oatmeal?" Ford's eyes brightened momentarily before becoming weary.

"No Stan," Ford chided his twin, "you need to eat too. And besides," Ford paused and frowned, "you can't always be looking out for me. I can take care of myself too you know."

"It's not like that, I swear," Stan raised one hand over his chest while he held the other out in the air, "scouts honor. I'm not feeling so good and I ain't hungry." Ford's brow creased as he scrutinized his twin's face.

"Really?" Ford's voice was weary but the slightest note of relief shone through, "you're sure you're sure?"

"I'm sure I'm sure," Stan smiled, passing his plate across the small table to his brother. His own stomach rumbled but he faked a loud cough to cover it up. _He needs it more than I do,_ Stan told himself as he forced a smile, _that big brain of his needs all the gas it can get._ Despite the pains of hunger he felt, Stan felt happy. He had looked out for Ford, something he promised he would always do. Even if Ford didn't often ask for help.

Ford finished the tiny helping quickly and the boys finished getting ready for school. They ran down the stairs from their small apartment above Pines Pawns and then through their father's store. The made their way down the main street, passing the other run down shops. It seemed to Stan that the prosperity sweeping the nation after the end of the war had simply left Glass Shard Beach behind. Every year more and more businesses closed down, more families went under or sold off what they had before moving on for greener pastures. Someday, Stan told himself, someday he and Ford would sail away from that dead end town, sail away and never look back.

A smell caught Stan's attention as the passed down a side street that led towards the elementary school. It was the kind of smell the set Stan's mouth watering and his stomach aching.

"Uh, Ford?" Stan asked cautiously, "do you smell that too?"

"Yeah," Ford smacked his lips, "what is that?"

It didn't take the boys long to find the source of the smell. It was coming from an ordinary looking house on the street but something about the place made Stan feel uneasy. _What am I doing here?_ he wondered briefly. The door of the house opened and the boys jumped back in surprise. Standing there before them was a fat man, smiling broadly as he wiped his hands on a washcloth. He eyed the twins for a moment before speaking.

"You smelled breakfast?" he asked, his eyes becoming sharp for just a moment. "There is plenty to share, if you would like to eat."

"What're ya cooking?" Stan asked before Ford could answer. The man's smile faltered for a moment.

"Why don't you just come in? You can see for yourself," the man gestured inside, the washcloth falling from his hands for a moment to reveal bright pink stains on his fingers.

"We should go," Stan forced himself to say, despite his building hunger. The man smacked his lips in annoyance.

"Why go? You must both be so hungry," the fat man said, opening the door slightly wider. _The bones,_ the words came from somewhere in Stan's head, somewhere he was unaware of, _the bones._ Suddenly he was very afraid, sweat began to drip down his back despite the cool autumn air.

"We have to go," Stan grabbed Ford by the arm, taking a step backwards. Suddenly the delicious smell turned to rot and the stink of it made Stan gag. The fat man pushed the door wide open now and Stan could see into the house behind him. The kitchen was a slaughterhouse. The walls were stained with errant sprays of blood, two bodies hung from hooks by the curtained window, and a grisly mass of flesh rested on a cutting board on the counter by the stove.

"Run!" Stan pushed Ford as hard as he could, "run!" Then everything was black.

Stan shot upright, his swinging fist connecting with the soft flesh of a cheek and crunching into the bone beneath. "Gah! Get the _hell_ off of me!" Stan swung wildly, his mind still groggy from sleep.

"Ah! Stan!" it was Mister Hatchet, his voice cracking with surprise. "Calm down."

"Huh?" Stan looked around, he was in the mine. They had stopped to rest for a few minutes and he had dozed off.

"You were screaming in your sleep," Hatchet breathed, rubbing his cheek and working his jaw.

"Sorry," Stan sighed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Good dream?"

"No," Stan gave him a weak smirk. "The bones," he said to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing," Stan hesitated for a moment. Mister Flowers was still sleeping. Hatchet had offered to stay awake while the others got some rest. "I think I had a dream about this place." Hatchet gave him a puzzled look, "well not this place. Only I think it was more than that."

"Right. That cleared everything up just fine," Hatchet frowned, sitting beside Stan.

"There was this man, and we were so hungry. But we weren't buying what he was selling, see?" Stan struggled to convey what he had experienced, "only I think it was what drove the miner's crazy. A dream like that could do that to a man." He shuddered softly. Hatchet breathed deeply to steady himself before reaching out and putting a hand on Stan's shoulder. Stan smiled sideways at Hatchet. "Thanks," Stan sighed loudly, "I'm just a little rattled is all."

"Don't mention it," Hatchet's hand lingered for a moment before he took it back. "Now explain to me what happened?"

Stan started at the beginning.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

I hope you all enjoyed that! I was looking forward to writing a Stan and Ford scene and now I have :) anyways, I hope the dream sequence came across as creepy, even if it was kind of short.

Sorry the chapter was a day late, I had the flu this week and I was a bit incapacitated. But I am feeling better now and the chapter is done!

 **Reviews:**

 **To khan1215:** Maybe.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Warning: This chapter might be a bit gory. Let me know if I should up the rating to M. Please don't read if you are disturbed by that stuff.

"And then I woke up and…" Stan frowned self-consciously, "clocked you one."

"Right," Mister Hatchet said ruefully. He paused for a moment, "do you think we're going to find another way out of here?"

"Hm," Stan was momentarily taken aback by the question, "I think so. We passed a lot of side tunnels when we were coming down here. They might connect. There might be other caves or chambers like the one we found. Who knows…" Hatchet's face fell before Stan corrected himself, "I mean I'm sure we'll find another way out. Who knows if there are other chambers."

"Thanks," Hatchet said.

"Can I ask you something?" Stan ventured. Hatchet nodded but before Stan could continue he noticed something that made his blood run cold. "Where's Mister Flowers?"

"Huh?" Hatchet stood up, looking first to the place where Flowers had stopped to rest. Sure enough, he was gone. After a moment's hesitation, Hatchet called out, "Flowers?" the noise carried eerily down the tunnel in both directions. "Flowers!"

There was no reply. Stan stood as well, hefting his backpack on his back in case the creature was nearby and they had to make a run for it. He exchanged a nervous glance with Hatchet.

"What do we do?" Stan asked, his voice rising with fear at the new development.

"We keep moving," Hatchet said with his characteristic ruthlessness. It seemed to Stan that in an instant all the emotional armor that seemed to have been peeling away was back. "I doubt he wandered off and we don't want to stick around to find out for sure."

"Okay," Stan had never considered himself to be a sentimental man but the idea of leaving someone, even someone as awful as Mister Flowers, behind down here didn't appeal to him. The two continued on their previous course, _if that big idiot wants to catch up, he knows where to find us,_ Stan told himself. _After all, it's not like there's many places to hide._

Stan and Hatchet had been walking for a quarter of an hour when they heard it. The ancient and musty air carried the sound from up ahead and it chilled Stan to his core. It was a fleshy sound and Stan tried not to let his imagination run away with what it might be. _We'll know soon enough,_ Stan steeled himself.

Up ahead, from the light of their flashlights, they could see that the tunnel opened up into another larger chamber. The sound was coming from there. Hatchet stopped, reflexively checking the safety and cocking the hammer on his pistol. Stan reached forward and placed a reassuring hand on Hatchet's shoulder. Hatchet let out a short breath and shrugged Stan's hand off before rolling his shoulders. He clearly wasn't accustomed to being touched.

"You know," Stan piped up, "I'd feel a lot safer with a weapon of my own."

"Sorry," Hatchet glanced back over his shoulder for an instant before returning his gaze forward, "I don't have anything else...wait," Hatchet reached into his jacket to pull out a small swiss army knife before passing it to Stan apologetically, "you can have this. If it makes you feel better."

"Thanks," Stan said sarcastically, "I feel safer already."

"Let's get this over with," Hatchet said firmly before walking forward into the chamber, Stan close on his heels.

The chamber was smaller than the gold cave had been. That was the first thing Stan noticed as they came in. The second was that it was man made, that much was obvious even to someone who had never stepped foot in a mine before this one. The walls were even and uniform and the chamber was roughly circular with regular side tunnel entrances dug into the walls at even intervals. There were six side tunnels in all, including the one they had come in through. Stan processed all this information in an instant as his gaze was drawn to the middle of the chamber where a hunched over Mister Flowers awaited them. It was a small chamber and Flowers stood only a dozen feet in front of them.

He was faced away from them but turned as they came into the chamber to reveal his blood soaked clothes and red, raw fingers. He hand his middle finger in his mouth and he was chewing off small pieces of skin from around his nail, blood dripping messily down his lips, and chin, and down onto his jacket and white shirt. He moaned happily, smiling to Stan and Hatchet without stopping what he was doing. Stan noticed with disgust that Hatchet's pinky and ring finger on the same hand were just strips of sinew and bright white bone.

"Oh god," Stan dry heaved, his gaze never leaving the grisly sight before him even as he retched loudly.

"Flowers," Hatchet's voice was wavering and it cracked noticeably, "what the _hell_ is going on?" Flowers didn't answer but instead bit deeply into his finger between the first and second joint before wrenching his head to the side to tear deeply into the flesh. A fresh stream of blood leaked out from the sides of his mouth before flowing onto his clothes. "You have five seconds to answer me," Hatchet raised the pistol so that he was aiming for Flower's chest. His stance shifted almost imperceptibly and his eyes narrowed as he took aim on his partner.

"Hold on, would ya?" Flowers sighed deeply, taking his hand away from his mouth and examining the grotesque stumps that used to be his fingers in the light from Hatchet's flashlight. "You can't believe how hungry I am," Flowers wiped up stray blood from his cheeks and licked it off his fingers, "it has been so long since I've had anything to eat." Flowers shivered violently, "Of course, I'm still starving," he eyed the others appreciatively but made no move towards them.

"Who are you?" Stan forced himself to speak, holding the puny knife in front of himself as he stepped forward to stand beside Hatchet.

"Well," Flowers rolled his eyes dramatically, "that's a funny story."

"Then please," Hatchet's eyes were cold and steely, "go on." He took a step forward, the gun still leveled.

"It's a long story," Flowers shrugged, absently chewing on the skin around his knuckle, "you sure you don't want something to eat?" he smiled broadly and Stan swore he could smell the stink of his breath even from across the chamber. Flowers took a step closer, his long legs covering a startling distance. "But I guess the question you want answered first is what happened to your friend here? Or maybe...uh...what was it again…" Flowers paused to think, absently licking his lips. "What do I want _with_ you?" Hatchet shifted uncomfortably and Flowers rubbed his eyes with his good hand. "Ha," he exclaimed, taking another step toward them as if by accident, "that expression! That one is always a crowd pleaser. _How did he know that?_ " Flowers did a poor imitation of a west coast surfer.

"Shoot him," Stan warned, "just shoot him already."

"I want some answers," Hatchet nearly shouted, his already high voice cracking even higher.

"And how do you think you're going to get them?" Flowers stepped forward with incredible speed, striking Hatchet straight on the nose with his good fist. The big man's blow sent Hatchet sprawling, blood already leaking from his nose. Before Stan could react Flowers was on him, his good hand hammering down on Stan's forearm, causing him to drop the knife and his guard, before coming up to punch him in sternum.

Stan had taken a good many hits in his short lived boxing career and he knew how to roll with a punch but the sheer force the big man was able to exert knocked the wind out of him and sent him up against the nearby wall. Flowers came after him, filling the space Stan had left unoccupied and getting up close before hitting him in the head and making his vision flash white. Another hit left Stan's ear ringing. The next made him feel as though he would vomit as his head bounced off the stone of the chamber wall. He was getting clobbered and the survivor in him, the survivor that had helped him get him out of every jam his conman career had landed him in, knew that if he didn't act now he would die. The bigger man would simply beat him to death. So he acted.

His knee rose up to meet Flowers right between the legs and it landed with jarring crack. Stan screamed a feral scream and dropped his hands onto Flowers' shoulders before launching himself and his other knee into Flowers' stomach. He leapt up as he threw his knee with all his might, the force of the blow pushing the bigger man back a pace as Stan stepped down and stopped hard on the bridge of Flowers' foot and he was rewarded with the sound of delicate bones breaking beneath his weight.

Seemingly undeterred by his broken foot, Flowers braced himself and grabbed Stan before lifting him and throwing him across the chamber to land with a hard thud on the stone floor.

"Agh," Stan shook his head to clear away the lingering nausea, "you have got to be kidding me!" He shoot a glance at Flowers expecting to see the big man come running to finish the job but instead to Stan's horror he was nearly upon Hatchet. Stan pushed himself to his feet before running as hard as he could across the small space, grabbing his puny discarded knife and throwing himself at Flowers.

The tiny blade buried itself just below Flowers' right shoulder and the force of the tackle send both him and Stan pitching forward. The big man braced himself with his hands and landed roughly while Stan, his hands still gripping the hilt of the knife, found the stone floor face first. Everything went black for a moment before a horrible pressure in his head brought Stan back to it.

Hatchet had gotten to his feet now and he stood prepared to fire.

"Shoot the son of a bitch!" Stan shouted, holding his aching head as he watch Flowers get back to his feet and turn to face his partner. The knife buried in his flesh had dug a ragged cut across Flowers' back from the force of the landing and although the wound was obviously serious Flowers didn't seem to mind as he stood before Hatchet.

"Say goodnight," Hatchet smirked but before he could pull the trigger Flowers sagged as if deflated. He groaned loudly and coughed violently before turning his pitiful eyes up to his partner.

"Wait," Flowers gasped, tears welling up in his eyes from the pain overcoming his body. He staggered a step forward.

"Don't," Hatchet looked unsure for a moment, his sharp features softening with pity.

"Please," Flowers tried to offer a weak smile, "Blair."

The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the small space and Stan's ears were ringing painfully as his eyes were blinded by the bright flash. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. Hatchet stood, smoking gun still in hand, over the body of Mister Flowers.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed that chapter! :D it was a lot of fun to write and it is (to date) the most violent scene that I've put in a fic! I have had the idea for this scene in my head for a few weeks now and I'm happy to have it finally out there.

So, what did you think? Was it scary? Creepy? Gross? Was the action good? Or did you absolutely hate it? Please let me know and review! I love reading them and they make writing week after week worth it :) It would mean a lot to me.

Anyways, now that that's over (or is it?) they can focus on getting out of there! But I doubt it's over...not even close.


	9. Chapter 9

Stan blinked to clear the bright white specks from his vision and held his hands over his ears to ease the pain of their ringing. Mister Hatchet stood motionless before the body of Mister Flowers as the blood pooled between them as if it was reaching out to lap at his feet. Stan took a step forward uncertainly. This snapped Hatchet out of his daze and he turned to regard Stan with cold, steely eyes.

"Are you alright?" Stan stopped despite himself under the force of that gaze. Hatchet said nothing and a few moments passed in unbearable silence until Stan continued, "It was him or you. There wasn't any choice." Hatchet smirked, lowering the gun so that it was pointed at the ground.

"I know that," Hatchet sneered, letting out a loud sigh that shook his small frame.

"Good," Stan became defensive.

"He ain't the first guy I've killed," Hatchet said, his voice gaining some more confidence.

"Right," Stan said wearily. _Right,_ he remembered, _Hatchet's a hitman. He must be used to this kind of thing. Still…_ "but he was your partner."

"He was my friend too," Hatchet's crooked smile faded as he looked down upon the corpse between them, "right in the heart. He sure does bleed a lot."

"Yeah," Stan stepped widely around the body as he made his way closer to Hatchet. "Was that...was that really him? At the end there." Stan winced, expecting the question to strike a nerve but to his surprise Hatchet just shrugged.

"Wasn't really him," he said confidently, "and even if it was, it was me or him and I'd chose me every time."

"I'm glad you did," Stan said taking another step closer so that they were only an arm's length apart, "and thanks." Hatchet looked at him in surprise, "for saving me."

"Sure," Hatchet said smiling, "it wasn't outta my way after all." He laughed a short barking laugh at his own joke. Stan chuckled but it was mostly nerves. He had never seen a man die before and never so violently. _This one's gonna give me nightmares for a while I'd bet._ Thinking of nightmares reminded him of his dream and he shuddered.

"Who's _Blair_?" Stan asked, eager to change the subject and distract himself from his train of thought.

The question provoked something in Hatchet and he darted forward, grabbing Stan by the collar and pushing him roughly against the wall. His eyes burned with an intensity Stan had never seen before and his shoulders shook as he pressed Stan against the wall so that the rough, rocky edges dug painfully into his back.

"Hey!" Stan tried to pry the smaller man's hands from his neck to no avail, "what's your problem?!" Hatchet's eyes darted back and forth as if searching for something in Stan's expression of surprise and hurt.

"Sorry," Hatchet let go immediately and took a step back. "You didn't know. And neither did whatever had Flowers' body."

"So you knew it wasn't him because…" Stan let the question trail off and Hatchet nodded.

"Flowers never called me that. Not in the four years we've worked together. Never." Hatchet looked Stan up and down before smirking, "he wasn't that stupid."

"Yeah," Stan rubbed his back tenderly, "I won't make that mistake again."

"You need a weapon," Hatchet declared, stepping over to Flowers' body before crouching down to root through his jacket. "Ah, here they are," Hatchet stood up and presented Stan with a thick pair of brass knuckles.

"Thanks," Stan took them in his hand, appreciating their weight. In the hands of a skilled fighter they were deadly weapons and Stan knew how to throw a punch with the best of them. He slipped them on over his scratch and scraped fingers and turned his hands around to get a feel for them.

"He won't be needing them anymore," Hatchet said with a smirk. "Now let's find a way out of here."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Stan replied, "but which way?" He gestured around at the small chamber. There were six side tunnels leading out of the chamber at regular intervals. They had come from one so that left five unexplored and they had no idea which might lead to the way out.

"Not sure," Hatchet frowned, looking at each in turn. "I guess we should just pick a way and go for it."

"I don't have a better idea," Stan shrugged, eager to be away from the corpse beside them. Hatchet nodded and turn to head down a path at random before Stan stopped him. "Well, actually…"

"What?" Hatchet seemed annoyed by the delay.

"Hold on," Stan rummaged in his pack until he found a normal six sided die, holding it up for Hatchet to see.

"And?" Hatchet asked expectantly. Stan shuffled nervously, _this is going to sound far fetched but…_

"Well," Stan began, "all my life I've had pretty incredible luck. It's gotten me out of plenty of jams in the past. Maybe we let the die decide."

"Alright," Hatchet accepted the strange idea immediately, leaving Stan short of his long explanation.

"Oh. Okay then," Stan pointed to a tunnel at random, "that's one." He pointed to the next tunnel to the right, "that's two and so on." He took the die and threw it on a blood-free section of ground.

Four.

"Alright," Stan scooped up the die and put it back in his bag, "let's go." And with that they set out.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter even though not much happened. I wanted to explain the last chapter a bit and set the duo in motion again.

As always, please review if you've got the time! I really love reading them and they help me improve the story and more generally as a writer because I can see what works and what doesn't. Speaking of which…

 **Reviews:**

 **To guest:** Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it :) I hope the rest of the story will be strange and interesting too.


	10. Chapter 10

_I wonder what that was,_ the creature wondered as it sat in the dark of the chamber. It had taken a little time to probe the memories of the man known as Mister Flowers, formerly Robert Haggart, but admittedly most of that time had been spent enjoying his many memories of eating. Consequently it had been unprepared for the weapon that had been used against it and it had cost it the puppet body. The creature growled loud and low in the perfect darkness of the chamber, consoling itself with another handful of Flowers' innards. It licks its gaunt lips with an inhumanly long tongue, savoring the flavor. In its experience each human had a unique taste, colored by a unique lifetime, and it enjoyed sampling this dish particularly. _Next time,_ the creature thought. Its thoughts drifted to the man that had resisted its attempts to possess him and those thoughts made it angry. It slashed at Flowers' abdomen with cracked claws, venting some of its frustration into the desecrated body. Next time, it would be more direct.

"The air smells fresher here," Stan said hopefully, breathing deeply and hoping that it wasn't just his building apprehension playing tricks on him. Mister Hatchet gave a noncommittal grunt as they continued down yet another side passage. "Don't you think so?" Stan voice was tinged with nervousness.

"I think," Hatchet spoke without turning around, "that we're running out of time." Stan swallowed at the ominous comment.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Hatchet sighed loudly, stopping to turn around and face Stan, "I just have a bad feeling, alright?"

"In my line of work, it pays to trust your gut," Stan shrugged.

"So what does your gut tell you then?" Hatchet rubbed his forehead tiredly with one hand.

"It tells me we've been going uphill," Stan smiled as Hatchet perked up. "Watch," Stan spat at his feet and slowly, very slowly, the droplet of liquid flowed back the way they had come from. The angle was so slight that it could have been missed entirely but it was definitely there.

"Well I'll be damned," Hatchet's face screwed up into a sneer but Stan could tell that it was his own version of a relieved smile.

"Don't jinx it," Stan flashed his best con man smile, "Up doesn't necessarily mean out...but it is a start." They continued on in silence for a while, neither one wanting to make any more noise than necessary as even the smallest sounds echoed down the dark tunnels with almost supernatural loudness. The thing that had trapped them was still out there somewhere and they had no desire to bring it down on them. Unfortunately, it found them.

"Wait," Stan heard it first, holding out a hand to stop Hatchet. He strained to hear out into the darkness around the duo and their meagre light. The silence was deafening and for a moment Stan was convinced he had imagined it. Then he heard it again. It was the loud scraping thud that had shadowed them through the mountains. It began faintly at first but it slowly built up until the noise filled the narrow tunnel.

"Run," Hatchet said taking off at a speed that surprised Stan. He chased after just as quickly, he hadn't survived so long in his business by being slow after all.

They took off down the tunnel in what Stan believed was the opposite direction of the sound, thought it was getting harder and harder to tell as the sound built up around them. They had been running for a minute or so when Hatchet's flashlight revealed that the tunnel ended abruptly ahead of them. He skidded to a stop, sliding along the rough stone of the ground and crashing into the rough hewn wall directly in front of him. Stan was a few feet behind Hatchet when a loud bang sounded and the tunnel shook violently as it if would come crashing down around them. In the chaos of the moment something unexpected happened. Stan tripped.

He pitched forward, his feet leaving the ground so that he was totally horizontal and flying through the air. The tunnel behind him collapsed and fragments of sharp stone came crashing down around him, cutting his clothes and biting painfully into his skin beneath. Stan screamed as he flew through the air, his hands reaching forward in vain trying to brace himself for the landing and as he flew the tunnel collapsed completely but miraculously he had made it out of the way of the debris. _Ha!_ was the only thought discernable in Stan's head as he realised that the crashing stone would land behind him rather than on him.

"Stan!" Hatchet spun around, breathless, with his hands flat against the wall behind him. There wasn't enough time to reach up and catch Stan and he knew it. His screaming face did its best to imitate an apologetic look as Stan closed the last foot between them and the two collided.

Stan threw his hands up to protect his face as they connected. The force of the blow sending Hatchet backwards into the rough stone wall and Stan's hands up against Hatchet's chest. _What the..._ Stan's panic stricken mind thought as his hands felt something distinctly soft on Hatchet's bony chest. Somethings. He came to a sudden stop as he too hit the wall and he fell against the ground on top of Hatchet. His head was ringing from their landing and his whole body felt shaken but he forced his head up so that he was face to face with the diminutive hitman. His eyes went wide as he looked at Hatchet's horrified face.

"Hatchet," Stan croaked out, "you're a…"

Hatchet eyes were wide with shock and that expression was the last thing Stan saw before her bony fist connected with the side of Stan's head and everything went black.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

Ha! Bet you weren't expecting that one. Or maybe you were…? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter :D this was one of the other scenes that I had knocking around in my head for a while so I hope the reveal turned out to be as funny as I had intended!

So what did you think? How was the chapter? I really appreciate the feedback from you, especially on a scene like this. It's really difficult to tell if something is surprising or funny when you're writing it so having some feedback is really helpful!

See you next time!


	11. Chapter 11

Stan awoke in a haze and he realised that he was lying on the cold stone floor of the mine. _What? How did I get here?_ he wondered for a moment before remembering the events that led him to his current position on the ground. His head hurt from Hatchet's punch and he recalled the events leading up to it with embarrassment.

"Eh," the sound came out somewhere between a groan and a yawn as Stan pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around and realised that he was still trapped in the dead-end tunnel, blocked on one side by a rock wall and on the other by the debris from the cave-in. His flashlight had been turned up so that it acted as a small lantern in the small enclosed space. Hatchet was sitting against the rough rocky wall opposite Stan and frowned to acknowledge him. "Uh," Stan began, clearing his throat. _What do I say?_ he wondered, his cheeks heating up from the embarrassment of the whole situation. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Hatchet scowled across the small space, "better than you anyways."

"Huh?" Stan looked down to see that his back and legs were sliced up from the falling debris. The sight of his own blood outside his body made him feel queasy and he swallowed. It wasn't that he was unused to seeing his own blood, he had boxed for years after all, it was just that after his encounter with Mister Flowers the sight seemed far more gruesome than it usually did. "Oh," Stan said after collecting himself for a moment, "I guess you're right."

"You okay?' Hatchet asked, her voice still cold but her face softened just a fraction.

"I've seen worse," Stan tried his best at a cocky smile but he felt nauseous from the blood loss and instead he looked like he would vomit. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a small first aid kit. _Always prepared,_ he told himself as he opening it and withdrew some gauze and adhesive strips. In his line of work injuries were often unavoidable after all. "I'll be okay."

"Good," Hatchet said, standing up. "Then you can help me find a way out of here. We're trapped as far as I can tell." Hatchet walked across the small space to the wall of debris, "Unless you wanna try pulling this apart and even then I can guarantee it'll just bury us in even more."

"Right," Stan winced as he wrapped a gauze roll around his exposed ankle before tearing it across and tapping it down. "We'll figure out something."

"Oh yeah?" Hatchet's voice rose, "and how do you figure that? That thing is still out there, waiting for us. Hell, maybe it's trying to find its way inside right now."

"Why did it bury us?"

"What?"

"If it just wanted to kill and eat us," Stan grimaced as he said the words aloud, "then why did it bury us away from it. Why didn't it just come right at us?" Hatchet paused, standing in place, before drawing her gun and examining it. She looked at Stan and then at the gun. Stan nodded, "I think it's afraid of us. It wanted to kill us with the cave in so it wouldn't have to go toe-to-toe with us."

"Huh," Hatchet smiled weakly, holstering the pistol once again, "I guess that makes sense."

"So all we need to do is figure out a way out of here," Stan confirmed, pausing to hike up his pant leg to wrap some bandage around his diced calf. The silence was deafening. Neither of them spoke and so Stan continued patching himself up while Hatchet continued pacing back and forth. _Should I apologize?_ he wondered. The thought made him feel awkward and angry and in the end he decided not to bring it up at all. _It's not like I could choose where I was going to fall, she should have gotten outta the damned way!_ Stan frowned, looking up at Hatchet. _If she got out of the way, my head would be split open on those rocks._ Stan's frown deepened as he realised what he had to do.

"Uh," he cleared his throat as Hatchet stopped her pacing to face him again, "I just wanted to say thanks."

"What?"

"Thanks for breaking my fall," Stan realised how it sounded as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"Oh yeah? Is that some kinda crack?" she took a step towards him menacingly before Stan threw his hands up in surrender.

"No, no!" Stan stammered out, "I mean it. If you weren't there to catch me I woulda busted my skull on the wall over there. Seriously, thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his other hand still in the air above him.

"Huh," Hatchet considered his words as she took a step closer and sat down in front of him. "In that case," she said, "don't mention it. Seriously. Keep your trap shut and forget the whole thing." Hatchet's voice cracked as she spoke, obviously uncomfortable.

"You got it," Stan nodded and they shared a look of mutual understand before Stan went back to bandaging himself once more. "Hatchet," his cheeks colored, "could you...uh…" he winced as he tried to take his blood-stained and tattered jacket off his back, "could you help me with this?"

"Whatever," Hatchet stood up despite her words, "turn around." Stan did as he was told as he tried to work his arm out of the sleeve of his jacket without moving around too much. Every movement caused the cuts and scrapes all along his back to flair up with pain. "Give me your arm," Stan complied and no sooner did he feel Hatchet's strong, small hands grab hold of his sleeve than she yanked the sleeve off.

"Gah!" Stan shouted involuntarily, "watch it!"

"Don't be a baby," Hatchet said, pushing Stan roughly on the shoulder so he turned while she held the jacket sleeve. The jacket slipped off Stan's back and Hatchet dropped it on the floor. "Yikes," Hatchet said, her voice low and uneven.

"What?" Stan's voice was harsh with concern.

"Your back doesn't look so good," Hatchet confessed, fidgeting with discomfort. The white dress shirt Stan wore beneath his sport jacket was dyed deep red with Stan's blood. The sight didn't bother Hatchet, she did kill people for a living after all, but she found Stan's state of undress very unnerving.

"I figured as much," Stan grumbled self-consciously, "I can feel it." He shrugged his shoulders for emphasis but the gesture sent ripples of pain down his back and he winced aloud.

"Take off your shirt," Hatchet told him forcefully.

"What?"

"You need to patch yourself up," Hatchet said angrily, "don't make me tell you again."

"I ain't getting undressed in front of you," Stan said bluntly.

"You'd rather bleed to death? Huh?" Hatchet took a step back. "Fine," she spat, "when you die I can leave your body here as a distraction!" Stan shuddered and Hatchet frowned.

"Okay," Stan broke the silence.

"Okay," Hatchet turned around to give what privacy she could in the cramped quarters.

Stan tried to work the shirt off his back but the same problem that had prevented him from taking off his jacket stood in his way once again. Stan grunted from the pain as he tried once more to shift his shoulder and roll it out of the tight dress shirt sleeve. By now he was breathing heavily.

"I need help," Stan said begrudgingly. Hatchet said nothing in response as she turned around and took a step closer to Stan's blood soaked back. She bent down to take a small pair of scissors from the first aid kit Stan had left out of his backpack.

"Stay still," Hatchet said as she reached out an unsteady hand to take a hold of his shirt. She quickly and roughly cut the shirt off Stan's back and he peeled it over his arms so that he was naked from the waist up. Hatchet stepped back immediately, turning her back again.

"Thanks," Stan's voice came out shaky and hoarse. Hatchet said nothing. Stan grabbed the gauze and taped one end of the roll to his hip before trying to wind the roll around his back. He grunted loudly as the pain flared up once again. "Hatchet," Stan began but she cut him off.

"Hand it over," she said as she came to stand behind the wounded conman. He held out the roll and she took it so their hands didn't touch. Then she began wrapping across his back, each time handing to him so he could wrap it around his front. Neither said anything as they worked and by the time the roll was depleted and Stan's back was patched up they were both sweating profusely. Stan taped the other end of the gauze to his shoulder, securing it, as Hatchet backed off once again.

"You need a shirt," she told him, clearing her throat loudly.

"Well I don't have an extra in my bag," he said too loudly, turning around to face Hatchet.

"Right," Hatchet looked away and Stan did the same.

"Thanks," Stan said before he could change his mind. "For everything."

"Yeah," Hatchet let out a long breath, "don't mention it."

"Now how do we get out of here?" Stan wondered.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

I hope you enjoyed the awkwardness of that chapter! :D it was a blast to write. What can I say, I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As always, reviews are super appreciated! I never know what works and what doesn't until you tell me and I can't improve as a writer without it. Speaking of which…

 **To Qatzol:** Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it so far. I am going to keep updating twice a week until the story is done so don't worry about that :) I hope this chapter delivered on the Stan/Hatchet, look forward to more of it in the rest of the story ;)


	12. Chapter 12

They had searched every inch of the tunnel they could access and still they had found nothing. Stan groaned in frustration before sitting down against the rough stone of the dead end.

"What are you doing?" Hatchet came to stand before Stan, giving him a miserable look.

"I'm not giving up," Stan waved her off, "I'm just taking a breather. Collecting my thoughts."

"Fine," Hatchet returned to examining the caved in debris, searching for a way to shift it out of the way so that it wouldn't cave in further.

"You thirsty?" Stan asked, digging around in his backpack.

"Huh?"

"You haven't eaten or drank anything for a while," Stan shrugged as Hatchet looked him over critically. "I think I have something to drink in here somewhere."

"Alright," Hatchet said the word slowly, like pulling out a splinter. She stopped her fruitless search to come sit across from Stan. "Why the hell not."

"Ah!" Stan said triumphantly, "here it is." He withdrew a brightly colored can from the backpack.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"What?"

"Is that soda?" Hatchet raised an eyebrow and her face screwed up into a condescending sneer.

"Not just any soda," Stan boasted, "this is Pitt Cola. The finest soda there is." He popped the tab before holding out the can between them.

"Peach soda?" Hatchet didn't move to take the can. Instead she reached into her jacket and withdrew a small silver flask. "Give me that," she took the can before Stan could object. She unscrewed the flask's stopper one handed with practiced ease, holding the Pitt can in the other hand.

"Hey," Stan began, "hold on…"

"What?" Hatchet held the flask over the open soda can. Stan tried to think up an objection but he couldn't think of any reason he couldn't have just a teensy drink. They were trapped after all and if the booze took the edge off of Hatchet's irritation then it would be worthwhile.

"Nevermind," Stan gestured for her to continue and she poured a sizeable helping of clear liquor into the soda can, stopping when the can overflowed to sip some of the mix off the top before continuing to pour. "Hey, you gonna drink it all yourself?" he held out his hand expectantly as Hatchet took a proper drink from the can.

"Yeah, yeah," Hatchet passed the can to Stan before putting the flask back into her jacket. Stan took a sip that sent a shiver down his spine. _Eh,_ he thought as he shook his head quickly from side to side, _peach soda and vodka. Not a winning combination._ Hatchet watched him with a smirk on her face but Stan could tell it wasn't meant to be unkind. She gave him a look that said, _What do you think?_

"Great," Stan coughed out, "just great." He held out the can for Hatchet again and she took it, making sure their hands didn't touch. She took another drink and her smile relaxed a fraction.

"You know," Hatchet held up the can appreciatively for a moment, "this combination ain't half bad."

"Whatever you say," Stan coughed to get the taste out of his mouth. He said nothing for a moment, letting the silence linger before speaking again. "We'll figure out a way out of here, you know."

"Sure we will," Hatchet raised an eyebrow, "we're only trapped in a mineshaft with a man eating monster. I mean, what could be simpler?"

"You musta been in worse situations before?" Stan asked. Hatchet laughed a short barking laugh.

"More dangerous? Sure. Weirder?" she left the statement unfinished. "You?"

"I've been on the run for years," Stan admitted, "and I have never been in spot like this before." He gestured at the walls around them before breathing a deep sigh. _For such a small space,_ Stan mused absently, _the air isn't that stale…_ Stan knew a little something about being trapped in small spaces and in his experience someone could survive a long time with limited air. The real killer was the smell of stale air.

"Well you managed to talk your way outta a shallow grave in the desert," Hatchet chuckled warmly, "so if anybody can figure out a way out of here, it's you." Stan grumbled at that.

"I don't know," Stan dug around in his backpack, withdrawing the small die from earlier, "scamming a couple of chumps like you two…" Hatchet scowled, "that's easy. Finding a way outta here could be a bit more difficult." He flashed Hatchet his best con man smile and her face softened a fraction. Stan tossed the die up and down absently.

"I thought you said you were lucky?" Hatchet looked at the die as it flew up into the air and fell back into Stan's hand over and over.

"I am," Stan replied, "I was. I can't explain it but my whole life it's felt like somehow I managed to get outta scrapes that should have done me in." Stan's mind wandered and he missed his catch, causing the die to bounce across the stony ground to rest against the far wall of the tunnel. Groaning, Stan stood up and walked over to retrieve it. He bent down and stopped, his hand hovering a few inches from the die where it rested against the wall.

"Air!" Stan shouted as he placed his hand against the wall.

"What?" Hatchet stood up at the sudden sound.

"There's a breeze!" Stan traced his finger along a nearly invisible seam that ran two feet up the wall. Hatchet ran over to him, pushing him roughly out of the way so she could see for herself. Sure enough, the faintest trickle of air flowed through the crack in the wall.

"Hey!" Stan sagged against the wall where Hatchet had pushed him. "Watch it!"

"Stan," Hatchet's face was alight with surprise, "do you know what this means?"

"What?" Stan stood upright with some difficulty, the booze making his head hazy.

"It means there might be a tunnel connecting with this one. Maybe they didn't finish it because of that thing out there but they got close. Real close. Close enough that there's air leaking through from the connecting tunnel," Hatchet was speaking quickly with excitement and all of a sudden her realisation dawned on Stan too.

"Ha!" Stan kissed the die before putting it in his pants pocket, "so all we need to do…"

"Is dig ourselves out," Hatchet smiled a crooked smile before turning to look for something to dig with.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Notes:**

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed that chapter :D I wanted to have a Stan/Hatchet bonding moment before continuing with the adventure so hopefully you enjoyed it.

As always, reviews are super appreciated :) I love hearing from you fine folks and what you liked and didn't like about the story or chapter. Speaking of which…

 **To Storminormin:** Thank you so much! :D Your encouragement is really appreciated.

 **To Qatzol:** Definately! I might do another Avatar: The Last Airbender fic since I haven't done one in a while but I am going to do more Gravity Falls fics for sure. I had the same problem with losing interest and not being able to write down more than a chapter or two. What I found to make a world of difference was publishing as I wrote and promising people a release date on the next chapter, that way the guilt of disappointing everyone motivates me to continue :P


	13. Chapter 13

"What time is it?" Hatchet asked, stopping so that Stan nearly ran into her.

"What?" she looked over her shoulder with an expectant look and Stan coughed uncomfortably.

"Time. What is the time," she barked. Stan frowned but checked his watch.

"Nearly eight," he said with surprise. _We've been down here a long time._

"In the morning?" Hatchet's voice rose in pitch.

"Yeah," Stan mused, "it should be daylight outside. All we need to do is reach it." Hatchet grumbled before turning back around. The duo continued down the tunnel in silence.

They had been traveling down the connecting tunnel for what seemed like forever but what must have been only half an hour. They hadn't changed their elevation much as far as Stan could tell and to him that was a good sign.

"How many bullets you got?" Stan asked, more to ease his nerves with conversation than for any tactical appraisal.

"Five," Hatchet answered without looking, "in this magazine. Then three more magazines of eight in my jacket."

"You expect a gunfight when you came to get me?" Stan chuckled.

"This is normal," Stan could hear Hatchet's sneering smile in her voice, "if I woulda known about the ghoul I woulda brought the streetsweeper out of the car."

"You do a lot of shooting in your line of work?" Stan asked, "I mean at things that shoot back of course."

"Sometimes," Hatchet shrugged. "I mean I've done some shooting in my time. Me and Flowers? We mostly did the cleaning up." There was a long pause. "Mister Flowers was in 'Nam. I never saw him touch a gun since."

"You're telling me he was some kinda pacifist?" Stan snorted.

"You some kinda idiot?" Hatchet turned to give Stan an annoyed glare, "he just found he liked using his hands better. That or a knife. He was good with both too."

"Yeah," Stan patted his bruised stomach for emphasis but winced at the pain, "I noticed he had a mean punch."

Hatchet stopped, holding up a hand, and Stan stopped too. Up ahead there was the faintest glimmer of light. Stan's heart leaped up into his throat for a moment before his cautious nature took control. _When something's too good to be true..._ Stan thought.

"What's the move?" Stan tucked his flashlight under his armpit so that he could put on the thick brass knuckles he had been keeping in his jacket. Then it was on him.

The flashlight dropped from Stan's hand and went out as it hit the rough stone of the ground. Stan screamed as a thin, skeletal arm snaked its way under one of his with incredible speed. The arm wrenched upward and bony fingers covered in exposed sinew reached behind Stan's head to grab him around the neck. The other monstrous arm reached up and wrapped itself around Stan's neck from the front. Before he could react Stan was trapped.

"Stan!" Hatchet spun around with impressive speed, raising her gun to aim at Stan and the creature. "Get outta the way!"

"What do you think," Stan wheezed as the creature squeezed his neck with superhuman strength, "I'm trying to do." Stan tried to wrench himself free, shaking violently back and forth, but the creature wouldn't budge. It breathed a long sigh that stank of putrid flesh. Stan wanted to vomit.

"Let him go," Hatchet didn't move but instead ran her flashlight over the creature, seeing it in its entirety for the first time. It was disgusting. It was taller than a man so it had to stoop to use Stan's body to shield itself. It walked upright on thin hairy legs that ended in solid hooves and those legs were attached to an emaciated torso that looked like man who had died of starvation. The arms that snaked around Stan were thin and sinewy, ending in long, sharp fingers that seemed to be nothing but bone.

"Drop that," the creature gestured with its head at the gun. Its head was elongated like a buck or bull's, topped with jagged horns and the human speech coming from its inhuman mouth filled Hatchet with an overwhelming sense of dread. The voice was rotten.

"Not a chance," Hatchet's face drew into a scowl.

"Hatchet," Stan coughed out, "don't you dare shoot me!" Stan squirmed again but to no effect.

"Hurry," the creature spoke, its voice soft and decayed. It tightened its grip around Stan's neck.

 _Come on Stanley!_ a voice shouted in Stan's head, _you gonna let this guy beat you?_ It took Stan a moment to realise the voice belonged to his brother, Ford. _No,_ Stan's hands tightened into fists, gripping the knuckledusters tightly, _hell no!_ Stan's vision was going dark, spotted with tiny flecks of bright white like stars. _Think Stan,_ Ford's voice told him, _outsmart him._ Stan coughed loudly, he could hear the sound of crashing waves in his ears as the blood pressure built in his skull.

Stan screamed, bringing his free arm up to strike the creature right on the back of the hand. The swing came in a wide arc that swept across Stan's chest, letting the weight of Stan's hand and the brass carry it to the monstrous hand that gripped his neck. The impact sent a shockwave through the creature's hand and into Stan's head, blurring his dimmed vision. The creature's fingers were broken, the exposed bones visibly cracked.

Before it could react, Stan stepped down and out of the headlock. The thing still had his other arm but that was a problem for later. Stan threw his weight forward as he spun around to face his attacker. The creature howled and its fetid breath came at Stan in noxious waves as it gnashed its jagged teeth.

"Agh!" Stan screamed his best battle cry as he launched himself forward. The creature tried to control his arm but Stan's fist, encased in solid brass, struck the beast in the head. For a moment it was dazed and Stan pulled his other arm free. It recovered quickly and Stan had to dive backwards to avoid being eviscerated by its clawlike fingers.

"Stay down!" Hatchet's high voice boomed in the narrow space and Stan covered his ears with his hands in anticipation of the coming shots.

"Kill the son of a bitch!" Stan shouted as the creature dove forward at him. Hatchet fired.

The first bullet tore a ragged hole in the creature's gaunt stomach. The next shot went straight through, taking bits of shoulder bone with it. The next tiny lead shot crumpled against the creature's breastbone. The fourth went through its broken hand.

The creature howled in pain, blood pouring from its body in thick rivulets onto the stone. It sagged forward slowly for a moment and Stan tried to stand but the suddenly it was on him. It grabbed him by the throat with one massive hand and pulled him to his feet. It bared its teeth for a moment before lashing out, trying to bit him.

"Why!" Stan pulled his hands up to block its bite and its teeth sunk deeply into his forearm. Stan dropped his hand, shaking the creature off. Then he struck. Punch after punch of perfect form and unyielding brass. "Won't!" Stan blinked hot tears from his eyes as the creature sagged backwards. His arm was burning. He stepped forward, working the body before striking it across the jaw with a cross that lifted it off its feet. "You!" Stan stepped in and grabbed the creature around the head, punching its body over and over. "Die!" He stepped back and sprung up, his uppercut knocking the monster to the ground.

He was panting heavily now, his arm bleeding down onto his already filthy bandages. Hatchet came up beside him, coughing once to warn him before placing a hand on his shoulder. Stan flinched anyways and Hatchet pushed him aside gently. She walked over to the creature, standing over it with a look of disgust on her face.

"When you get to hell," she raised the gun, "you tell the devil that Mister Hatchet sent you." She pulled the trigger and the bullet left a mess of blood, brain, and skull on the stone below. She turned to look at Stan. "Let's get out of here."

 **To be concluded…**

 **Author's Notes:**

Ah! There it is. I hope you liked the action scene :) I try to take a lot of care in writing them so they don't seem gratuitous or too long so I would really like to know what you thought about it! Good? Bad? Shorter? Longer? More tension? More direct?

Anyways, now there's only one last chapter to go! See you all on Saturday :D

 **To Qatzol:** Thank you so much! :D I appreciate the feedback. I hope their final battle was worth the wait. What will become of Hatchet? You'll just have to find out next time ;) For the Avatar fic, I'm not sure. I'll just have to find some inspiration (eg marathoning the show over the weekend). I appreciate the offer for ideas but I find it really hard to write if the idea isn't mine so I'm good for now. Thanks though :)


	14. Chapter 14

"My arm's killing me," Stan winced, holding his ragged forearm in the air to staunch the blood flow.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Hatchet accused as the two made their way down the lighter tunnel.

"Nothing," Stan grimaced. _At least when we get out of here I can patch this thing up._ The tunnel smelled like fresh air and the light in the distance told them that they were almost out. Stan held his optimism in check, after all he hadn't survived so long in the business by trusting too much in hope. "You sure that thing's dead right?" Stan looked over his shoulder despite himself.

"Oh I'm sure," Stan could hear Hatchet's sneer in her voice, "didn't like getting shot too much, I can tell you that."

"Yeah," Stan forced himself to turn his back on the consuming darkness behind them. "Yeah, you're right."

The tunnel emerged into daylight and they ran the last stretch so that they emerged into the morning with ragged breathes. _Ha! We did it._ Stan's smile was broad as he inhaled the fresh mountain air greedily. Hatchet looked up at the sun through squinted eyes. She was smiling too.

"We did it," Stan's voice came out uneven, a feeling of relief washing over him.

"We did it," Hatchet said, sitting down on some nearby grass. Stan followed her and sat down too.

"We did it."

"Yeah."

They stayed like that for a while. Neither of them saying anything but just enjoying the wide open space around them. Surprisingly to both of them, Hatchet spoke first.

"Hey Stan," Hatchet looked pointedly away from him as she spoke.

"Huh?" Stan looked at her critically.

"Thanks," Hatchet frowned deeply. Stan's expression lightened and he thought about putting a hand on her shoulder but he thought better of it. _I don't wanna end up with a broken nose or something,_ he reminded himself.

"Well," Stan chuckled, "it wasn't outta my way." Hatchet snorted.

"I think…" the silence between them was heavy. "I thought we were going to die down there."

"Me too."

"Well we didn't," Hatchet looked up at the blue sky, "and that ain't half bad."

"That was pretty cool you know," Stan looked up as well. "When you get to hell, tell 'em Hatchet sent ya. Ha!" Hatchet smiled.

"Yeah," she said, "I've gotten pretty good at last words. Practice, you know?"

"Yeah," Stan looked at his bloody hands, still gripping the brassknuckles. "So what now?"

"You mean the mine?" Hatchet spat, "I'm getting out of here. The mine's collapsed and I ain't gonna go digging around down there even if it wasn't."

"I was thinking the same thing," Stan thought he might regret his decision later, when money was tight, but at this moment he couldn't bare the thought of going back down there into the darkness. "Could I ask you something?"

"You just did," Hatchet smiled.

"Har har har," Stan deadpanned. "Seriously though, can I get a ride back to town with you?"

Hatchet laughed a short barking laugh, "yeah, Stan. Sure."

"And...uh...I'd rather not ride in the trunk this time."

"Sure, why not."

Stan sipped his coffee quietly. His arm was bandaged and he was once again fully clothed. Hatchet had given him one of Flowers' spare shirts from the car and now Stan resembled a child wearing clothes far too big for him. They sat at a booth in some nowhere diner in town. Hatchet was eating pancakes, her fork waving as she spoke.

"Anyway," she took another bite and continued talking, "I figure you got a few hours til Big Steve misses me and Flowers. That means you better get outta town."

"Yeah," Stan nodded, putting his coffee down. "I'll take the bus outta town as soon as I finish this coffee."

"You sure you don't wanna eat something?" Hatchet wiped some syrup from her bony chin with a napkin.

"Don't have much of an appetite," Stan frowned. "So what are you gonna do?"

"Well," Hatchet shrugged, "I think I'm gonna find another job. Too dangerous, you know? Got family back in Cali and I hear the construction business is a racket."

Looking at her now, it was difficult for Stan to imagine how people could confuse her for a man. The waitress had and Stan didn't correct her. If that's how Hatchet wanted to play it, then that was fine by him.

"We should get going," Hatchet threw some bills on the table before standing up. Stan chugged the last of his coffee before following her out into the street.

"Well," Stan said, "I guess this is it."

"Yep," Hatchet met his eyes and Stan swallowed. Finally, he put out a hand. Hatchet looked at it for a moment, then at Stan. She reached out and took it and they shook.

"Safe travels, Mister Hatchet," Stan smiled a big goofy grin.

"It's Blair," Hatchet frowned as if the name tasted foul as she said it, "Blair Schafer."

"Mister Hatchet suits me fine," Stan smiled and Hatchet smiled too, a wide genuine smile that went from ear to ear.

"Well, don't tell nobody just the same," Hatchet smirked.

"Sure thing," Stan rubbed his neck awkwardly. He wasn't good with goodbyes.

"Happy trails, Stan," Hatchet turned to leave, "and if you ever find yourself in the golden state, look me up."

"You got it," Stan said. "Goodbye and goodluck."

 **The End.**

 **Author's Notes:**

There you have it :) I hope it was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write. And I hope the ending went alright. I'm terrible with endings!

I just wanted to thank all of you for reading to the end :D It means a lot to me, more than you know, to have someone enjoy my work. You make the whole thing worthwhile :)

Leave a review if it suits you, I love getting feedback and I would really like to know what people thought of the story as a whole since it's my first Gravity Falls fic and I intend to write a lot more!

Until next time!


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